


Dish Constellations

by Talianna_ (Talianna)



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Eggsy hates to do the dishes, Harry doesn't really get it, Hartwin, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Pining Eggsy, Same Age, Tumblr Prompt, this is so silly omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talianna/pseuds/Talianna_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: "100 Ways to Say 'I Love You'" - <strong>67. "I did the dishes."</strong> prompted by <em>tastymoves</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dish Constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/gifts).



**67\. “I did the dishes.”**

Eggsy looked away sheepishly, aware of Harry’s lingering stare but unable to look him in the eyes. Not when he was blushing this madly. Not when his heart was positively racing. Not when his hands were starting to get clammy. Not when his words might as well have been an admission Harry just couldn’t misunderstand.

“You didn’t have to.”

Or maybe he could.

-

If there was one thing Eggsy could go without doing for the rest of his life it was definitely the chore of doing dishes.

He was the type of person to collect all cups and glasses and plates in his room, stack them on any and every unoccupied surface for days until someone wanted to drink and could find no clean glass because Eggsy had them all scattered around his room. Usually, the person – more often than not his mum – would then collect all dishes and give Eggsy the opportunity to begin a new collection and constellation of different dishes in different locations. His mum has given up on getting him to do his dishes early on; it was a lost cause. But he actually enjoyed doing the laundry and giving the floor a sweep every other day, so he wasn’t entirely a lazy-arse that didn’t do shit, so they agreed on splitting the tasks.

This arrangement worked for them for years, but when the time came, it wasn’t build to last.

‘The time’ meaning Eggsy moving out once he enrolled at uni.

Doing the dishes – or rather the fact that he didn’t do them – was probably the least of his worries when he told his mum he would move out, and it wasn’t until he was settled in his dorm that the realisation that he would have to do them someday dawned on him – it had only been two days, he had been drinking out of beer cans and eating take-out so far, so there were no dirty dishes to do yet.

He couldn’t afford a dishwasher for the life of him – he worked as a delivery boy part-time which didn’t pay nearly as much as he’d like but enough to pay for anything he needed; a dishwasher, though, was a luxury he didn’t necessarily need, at least that’s what his pay check told him.

The genius idea hit him when he was throwing away the left-over Moo shu pork from last night and he up and left for Tesco, where he bought packs of 100 of disposable forks, spoons and knifes and single-use plates and cups – all of those bio-degradable, because why not save water and the earth of more waste simultaneously?

And this arrangement worked even better for him; when there was too much stuff lying around he would just grab a bin liner and be done with it instead of having to wash dishes and dry them and put them away. He was a right genius, that’s what he was.

His antics weren’t exactly traditional, though, and he was made painfully aware of this fact when one semester in, he got a roommate assigned who very much appreciated his silverware and the fine china that he drunk his morning tea from, thank you very much.

Harry Hart was quite the enigma for Eggsy.

He dressed and spoke smartly, throwing around thank-yous and forgive-mes and you’re-welcomes like girls threw around dollar bills in night clubs on their hen nights, he was tidy and organised and almost too polite, but at the same time he was always too late and when they were alone, he liked to curse like a sailor shocking Eggsy time and time again. He also enjoyed a glass of whiskey at the oddest of times and was a sarcastic little shit if Eggsy knew one. Also, he had a dog. Which he named Mr Pickle and which might have been an even bigger little shit than Harry, the way it always opened the door to Eggsy’s room at night and climbed into his bed.

Eggsy would never admit it, obviously, but he liked the dog and he was absolutely delighted with the look of betrayal on Harry’s face when Eggsy came out of his bedroom in the mornings with Mr Pickle in his arms while Harry sipped on his tea.

What he didn’t particularly like, though, was Harry’s opinion on Eggsy’s genius idea, or how utterly appalled he looked when he found Eggsy’s collection of dishes the first time he came into his room or the bags of single-use cutlery in the kitchen drawers instead of actual silverware. He didn’t comment on it, of course, because he was too polite, but Eggsy couldn’t deny that he noticed his plates and cups disappearing from the couch table overnight after he forgot – read: didn’t want – to throw them away. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but the addition of an entire set of dishes in the overhead drawers of the kitchen apart from Eggsy’s disposable ones on the counter almost felt homey, more of a permanent thing and not as temporary as Eggsy’s, almost like it was and would remain their kitchen.

Eggsy didn’t use Harry’s dishes, though, even if Harry insisted that it was a waste of money to buy 100 packs every other month and Eggsy argued that the water he would have to use to do the dishes would cost him more money and time, and they bickered on about it until Harry poured himself a glass of whiskey and Eggsy stomped into his room. He was unable to stay mad for long, especially when Mr Pickle trotted behind him and settled into his lap.

After their spat, they nonverbally agreed on letting the matter rest and going on as they did, with Eggsy working his part-time job and Harry doing Lord knows what while Eggsy was busy. The only thing that had changed since Harry had moved in was that Eggsy was eating significantly less take-out because Harry really enjoyed cooking, and he conveniently overestimated how much he had to make for one person, so there was always more than enough for the both of them.

Eggsy thought they must have painted an amusing picture, with Harry in his smart clothes, the mop of curls on his head and his silverware held delicately in his hands, while Eggsy sat across from him in his cap and the winged shoes shoving the food inside from his disposable plate and slipping Mr Pickle some scraps as he sat between the two of them and stared up with his big puppy eyes.

Eggsy thought he was the stealthy one, but he always seemed to miss the affectionate glance sent his way when Eggsy gave into the dog’s pleading gaze and he never caught Harry’s warm smile.

-

On Eggsy’s birthday, a couple months into their living together, Harry invited him out for dinner to a little restaurant near campus. Eggsy wouldn’t dare to call it a date, even if they both smartened up and Harry insisted that Eggsy let himself be treated to a proper three-course dinner. Eggsy’s face warmed when Harry told him how good he looked once he emerged from his bedroom and he hid his smile as Harry put a hand to the small of his back as he led him out of their dorm. They spent their time in the restaurant talking about any- and everything, teasing and joking and laughing and reaffirming Eggsy in his assumption that this was not a date, because their conversations flowed with ease and they were incredibly comfortable in each other’s presence and Eggsy was used to dates being an incredibly awkward affair altogether.

And as if Eggsy had invoked it with his thoughts alone, their evening was not spared of incredible awkwardness. When they were finishing up their desserts and taking the last sips of their drinks, Harry asked for the bill and realised with horror etched into his features that he had forgotten his wallet.

“Are you taking the fucking piss, Haz?” Eggsy asked, words hushed but demanding and he felt almost sorry for the sharp edge to his voice as he watched Harry look around in helplessness as if his wallet would materialise out of thin air if he just stared around enough.

Unfortunately, he was not. Taking the piss, that is. And as it was, the manager did not go easy on them, even when Harry explained how it was Eggsy’s birthday or that he would pay for it, he just needed to fetch his wallet.

“Do you think I don’t know your type? You come in here, eat as much as you want and fake an engagement to get the food for free. Oh no, boys. You will work off the debt.”

And thus it was that they found themselves in the kitchen with a shit ton of dirty dishes just waiting to be washed and no dishwasher in sight. Eggsy died a little inside when the manager pushed detergent and yellow rubber gloves into their hands, but before Eggsy could take them, Harry chimed in.

“No! He can’t use the gloves, he’s allergic!”

Eggsy stared at him in confusion and the manager raised an unimpressed brow. “Allergic to gloves?” He demanded, his tone a mix of anger, fury and exasperation.

“No, of course not.” Harry rolled his eyes and Eggsy stepped on his foot – they were already up shit creek, no need to piss the guy off even more. “He’s allergic to latex.”

“And I’m allergic to lying freshers that think they can wind me up. You can’t bluff it out, now go to work!” He pushed the gloves into their chests and Harry grabbed both pairs before Eggsy’s hands could come up.

“He really can’t and unless you want him to die in your restaurant, you won’t force him.” The manager was already opening his mouth to rebut and Harry spoke up again. “I’ll do his workload too.”

Eggsy turned to him and stared at him in shock, shaking his head but one deadly glance from Harry stopped him from any further argument.

“Whatever, just get it done.” With that, he turned around and left the kitchen, muttering angrily under his breath.

“What the fuck, Haz?” Eggsy demanded once they were alone, watching as Harry put the utensils away and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves and Eggsy repeated in his mind that this was not fucking hot, not at all. “I’m not allergic.” He stated, reaching for the gloves, but Harry pushed his hands away.

“And I’m not going to make you do the dishes on your birthday, so stop arguing.” Harry insisted, putting on the gloves and diving into the work without another glance at Eggsy.

Eggsy felt restless as he watched Harry, restless and guilty for making Harry do all the work while he was more than capable of helping him. Yes, he hated doing the dishes, but he hated this situation even more.

Eggsy pushed his sleeves up and grabbed the gloves, feeling a bit constricted by them but not enough to stop him from reaching for the dirty dishes.

He was stopped nevertheless, when Harry stretched his arm out in front of Eggsy’s chest, pushing his elbow slightly against his pecs to keep him from reaching the plates. “No, Eggsy.” He said, looking down at him with eyes that told Eggsy he would not be easily convinced and Eggsy sighed.

“I am more than capable of doing the dishes, you know.” He explained, not quite believing that they were actually having this conversation.

“And I am more than capable of working off my debt, Eggsy.”

“But it’s mine as well!”

“I invited you on a date and I forgot to bring my wallet so it’s my debt.” Harry insisted and the weight of his arm against Eggsy’s chest disappeared when he turned back to the slowly dwindling pile of dirty dishes.

Eggsy watched the colour rise on Harry’s cheeks and registered his words belatedly. When he did, though, a wide grin spread his lips and he leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching Harry carefully.

“So this is a date, then?” He asked cheekily and his grin stretched wider when the fork Harry was currently washing slipped out from between his fingers.

“Indeed, it’s the date of your 24th birthday, if you had already forgotten.” Harry mumbled under his breath and busied himself with everything but looking at Eggsy who shook his head in affection. “Now stop distracting me or I’ll be washing those until your 25th comes around.”

Eggsy just laughed and conceded, pulling off the atrocious gloves and sitting up on the counter next to the growing pile of clean dishes. Harry’s blush slowly receded and they fell back into easy banter and light conversation, with Harry looking up at Eggsy a couple of times and Eggsy dangling his feet like a child.

When Harry told Eggsy about his worst birthday, Eggsy doubled over and guffawed, and when Eggsy told him the most inappropriate joke, the spoon in Harry’s hand slid right under the spray of water which then covered Harry’s face and chest and Eggsy laughed and fell off the counter, and he thought that this birthday was probably one of his best.

-

It was in late November that Harry came down with the flu and was bound to bedrest for an entire week. He was actually unbearable when ill and Eggsy was secretly pleased that Harry wasn’t as perfect as he seemed.

Harry was stubborn, unwilling to stay in bed and Eggsy was close to just tying him down a couple of times but Harry was conveniently exhausted and fell asleep before he could piss Eggsy off enough to actually go through with it.

Instead, Eggsy called up his mum and asked her what he could do to help and wrote it all down meticulously. He also decided to take the week off. Usually, he couldn’t afford losing a week’s worth of pay, but when he saw Harry’s weak state he couldn’t bring himself to leave him all alone. And when Mr Pickle joined Harry on the bed and buried his head into his chest, Eggsy wished he could do the same.

Instead, Eggsy made sure that Harry had always plenty to drink, making him peppermint tea and trying to prepare chicken soup, which he messed up twice before he decided to just let it be delivered. Eggsy worked his way down his mum’s list and the doctor’s orders and the Wikipedia page on the flu and despite protests from Harry, he even used leg compresses to try and lower the fever.

Harry had been lying in his bed, whining and moaning and groaning for four days when Eggsy stood in their kitchen in front of a pile of dirty bowls and glasses and silverware and Harry’s fine china. Eggsy knew how tidy Harry was, so he made sure to always bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen instead of collecting them in Harry’s room like he would in his own, but he just couldn’t bring himself to actually do them until now. As Eggsy took them out of the sink and put them on the counter so he could fill the sink with hot water, he blushed profusely while he thought back to the morning.

He had brought Harry his usual peppermint tea – he had read that you should drink it rather than black tea when you have the flu – and his breakfast. Harry’s forehead was hot to the touch and his curls were sticking to his clammy skin when Eggsy ran his fingers through the mop of hair while Harry was still asleep. Eggsy noticed the way Harry’s eyes were moving restlessly beneath his shut lids and the way his hands were clenched around the sheets. He sat down on the chair he’d been occupying for the last four nights right next to Harry’s bed and laid a hand on top of Harry’s, his thumb brushing against Harry’s wrist slowly as he tried to lure him out of sleep.

Harry’s eyes slid open at last, his hand clutched the sheet tightly before it went slack again and Harry turned his head to the side, his cheeks a furious red as he watched Eggsy through half-lidded eyes.

“Eggsy.” His voice was hoarse and Eggsy told him to shut up with undisguised affection and concern in his own voice and Harry smiled tiredly, flipping his hand – which was still covered by Eggsy’s – over. A shiver ran down his spine when the tips of Eggsy’s fingers brushed against his knuckles, before he wrapped his own fingers lightly around Eggsy’s.

“You look like an angel.” A slurred murmur, his gaze intense but his thoughts obviously swayed by his fever and Eggsy thought his skin must’ve resembled Harry’s in that moment, because he blushed furiously at his words and then cleared his throat that was suddenly as dry as Harry’s.

“I am, in fact, the best kind of angel.” Eggsy retorted, a cheeky grin on his lips as he tried to lighten the atmosphere which he was sure seemed to be heavy and heated only to him, because Harry was way too far out of it. “That kind that brings you breakfast in bed.”

He slid his hand out of Harry’s grip and reached for the tray while Harry tried to sit up, wincing at the pain that shot through his head. He hated his runny nose, the dry throat, the hotness of the fever, but he absolutely abhorred the headaches during the flu.

Eggsy put the tray in front of Harry, who smiled brilliantly through his pain at all of his favourite food. “Sure you aren’t an actual angel?” He teased, his throat still dry before he reached for the tea and took a sip, while Eggsy laughed.

“Don’t you mean a demon? This must be hell for you.” Eggsy teased and Harry snorted, rolling his eyes and taking a bite of his sandwich, looking up at Eggsy from beneath his lashes.

“Right now, this tastes like heaven.” Harry murmured and Eggsy stared at him for five seconds before he burst out laughing, doubling over in his seat and brushing tears out of his eyes while Harry watched on with a smile on his lips.

“Fucking hell, Harry, you should be ill more often. Makes you proper hilarious, honestly.” Eggsy was still laughing and Harry rolled his eyes again before he dug back into his food while Eggsy leaned back.

After a while, Harry finished his breakfast and piped up again. “Maybe I should be ill more often. Lounging around in bed all day while you bring me food and drinks isn’t half as tedious as it sounds.” He teased again and it was Eggsy’s turn to roll his eyes.

He stood up then, leaning over Harry to grab the tray while Harry looked up at him with wide eyes and burning cheeks, and before he could think twice about it, Eggsy’s eyes closed and his lips were pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s forehead, the skin hot against Eggsy’s lips.

Eggsy ripped open his eyes when he realised what he was doing, and leaned back hurriedly, positively racing out of Harry’s room. It was a proper miracle that he managed to bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen without letting it all fall down and he propped up his hands on the counter, groaning as the blush took over his entire face and he pressed his cold hands to his cheeks to cool himself down.

He was breathing heavily and he just hoped that Harry would forget this even happened, hoped that he would think this was a fever-induced hallucination because Eggsy seriously doubted that he could look into his eyes again after Harry had told him that he looked like an angel and Eggsy had fucking kissed him.

Eggsy groaned again and hadn’t dared to take a step inside Harry’s room ever since.

Instead, he went about feeding their dog, sweeping the flat, doing laundry; anything to keep his mind off of Harry and the feeling of his curls brushing against Eggsy’s cheek and his fingers tracing Eggsy’s skin and the way Eggsy’s heart skipped a beat when Harry smiled.

When Eggsy filled the sink with water and grabbed the first dirty plate, he realised that he had fallen for the man in the room next door, and when a spoon sent a spray of water over his chest he realised that he would do anything to see his smile again.

And when Harry emerged out of his room, all tousled hair and red cheeks and confusion in his eyes when he saw Eggsy drying his dishes, Eggsy was smiling proudly and was positively smitten by the sight of Harry leaning against the doorframe.

“You did the dishes.” Harry noticed, wonder in his voice and Eggsy just nodded and smiled at him warmly.

“Yeah.” He answered, a little bit breathlessly, a little bit in love. **“I did the dishes.”**


End file.
